


Chicken Noodle Soup

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Happy, Sick Castiel, actually happy for once in their goddamn lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his grace, Castiel faces his first flu. Thankfully Dean is there to help him through it.<br/>Lot's of fluff. Hope you enjoy (:</p>
<p>PS Check out my tumblr, where I post stories and take asks and prompts!!<br/>http://destiel-love-forever.tumblr.com/<br/>-I'm hoping to do a 25 days of Christmas this year, so if you have any prompts or ideas I would much appreciate it so I can get a head start!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Noodle Soup

“I’m dying.” Castiel groans from the couch. Dean laughs, shaking his head. He’s kneeling beside the man, a damp cloth in his hand. Castiel looks up at him, his blue eyes surrounded by puffy red skin. 

“I promise, you aren’t dying.” Dean whispers. He places the cloth on Castiel’s forehead, hoping it will cool him off a bit. He’s running a temperature of 101, which secretly kind of worries Dean. 

“I hate this.” Castiel mutters, shifting slightly. His eyes flutter a bit from the movement, his face slightly contorting with pain. 

“Being sick?” Dean asks sympathetically. When Castiel moved the cloth slipped a little, and he’s fighting to not fix it. This is his friend. He has to remember that. Just a friend.

“Being human.” Castiel grumbles, his eyes still closed. Dean lets out a little laugh. He’s only been human for a few weeks, and he’s already over the experience. 

“Yeah, you can thank your paps for how shitty the human experience is.”

“I wasn’t there when he created this world, but I have this feeling that the flu was his way of torture.” Castiel nods slightly, wincing when the pain shoots through him again. “Yup, it had to be for that reason.”

Dean stands up, moving to the other end of the living room. He shuts the light off, then reaches over to turn on a dull lamp. He’s rewarded with blue eyes, silently thanking him. “It’ll be over in a few days. These things usually don’t last too long.” It’s partially the truth. The flu usually runs its course after about 48 hours, but for a new human with no immunity built up from years of being sick? Who knows how long it’ll take. 

When Castiel shivers a little Dean moves to the trunk pushed into the corner. He opens it, pulling out a faded quilt that was folded up inside. He shakes it out a little, making sure it’s not dusty. When he walks over and places it on Castiel, the ex angel’s fingers clasp the edge of it tightly. “Thank you.” He croaks, holding onto it like it’s a cure. He must have been freezing. Dean silently curses himself for missing it, hating that he’s not doing a good job. 

“I’ll make you some soup.” Dean says quietly, moving towards the kitchen. Castiel lies on the couch shivering while he’s gone. He raises a hand to his forehead slowly, fixing the cloth on his forehead. If he’s being honest, it’s a fifty fifty situation he’s in. Part of him really wants to get better, because this flu is making him miserable. The other part though, the part that used to watch over Dean when he slept, who’s seen countless nights of nightmares. The part of him who saved this man a dozen times, who’s felt the heartbreak of thinking he’s dead. The heartbreak of living in a world without Dean Winchester. That part of him, wants to stay sick forever. Because when he’s better, Dean will retreat. He’ll find something to hunt, he’ll wrap his hand around a bottle of Jack. He won’t be all his anymore. 

When Dean comes back his smile his bright. “Chicken noodle soup.” He says excitedly, “When I used to get sick, my ma always made me chicken noodle soup.”

“Thank you Dean.” Castiel says quietly, sitting up so he can hold the bowl. The cloth falls off, but neither of them acknowledge it. 

“No problem. I’m sorry it’s not homemade.” He scratches his forehead. “Hopefully that isn’t required for the secret healing powers she used to talk about.”

“It’s perfect Dean.” Castiel says seriously. Castiel blows on the spoon of soup lightly, the perfect pucker of his lips sending a chill down Dean’s spine. Dean coughs. 

“Need anything else?” Dean asks. Castiel wants to say yes. You. I need you to stay where you are, safe. I need you to hold me. Warm me up. I need you to sing me to sleep like Sam says you used to do for him. I need you to love me. I need you.

“I’m fine.” Castiel says instead. Dean gives him a tight smile. “What are you gonna do for the rest of the night?” Castiel asks. He wants to beg him to stay. 

“I thought about heading down to Pete’s for a while.” The local bar. Castiel fights the anger that bubbles within. The drinking has been terrible lately. Dean comes home almost  
every night with bloodshot eyes and slurred words. Usually with a girl, who likes to be loud. The last one made it clear to Castiel, despite the three rooms in between theirs, exactly how good Dean is. 

“Will you stay?” Maybe it’s the fever, or the dehydration, that makes him say it. But apparently it doesn’t matter. It’s all Dean needed to here. 

“Yeah.” Dean says in a low voice. He sits down on the couch, only inches from Castiel. He picks up the remote, flipping through the channels. He settles on a Star Trek episode, letting himself relax into the comfort of the couch. Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long time. He finishes the soup, setting it down. When he leans back, his arms brushes against  
Dean’s. 

“Sorry.” Castiel mutters, pulling away a little. Dean grabs his wrist, holding him in place. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean says sternly, no room for argument. When his grip loosens Castiel relaxes, letting himself seep into the cushion. Now his shoulder is against Dean’s along, with their arms touching. Castiel holds his breath. He used to be an angel for christs sake. This man should not make him feel so scared. Why is he so terrified to show him his feelings?

Castiel tries to concentrate on the show but he can’t. His eyes start drooping. He leans his head on Dean’s shoulder, letting them close. He barely registers the sharp inhale from the man, falling asleep almost instantly. 

 

When Castiel wakes up, he’s on his left side facing the television. The quilt is wrapped tightly around him, and the damp cloth that is barely on his face is warm now. He sighs, wondering if Dean left for the bar. The bunker is eerily quiet as he looks around. When he finally wakes fully he realizes there’s something pressing against his back. It’s hard and firm, and smells faintly of scotch and leather. HIs breath hitches when an arm wraps itself around his waist, pulling him tighter. 

He can feel Dean breathing on the back of his neck. Every exhale is cool against his fevered skin. He shifts slightly, accidently elbowing Dean’s stomach. Dean wakes with a jump, looking around frantically. Always on alert, always ready to fight. When he realizes where he is he settles, not moving his arm from where it wound itself. He stares at his hand on Castiel's abdomen for a few seconds, before letting his eyes meet Castiel’s. 

“Sorry. I just-” Dean silently curses himself. He meant to just lay there for a few minutes. Pretend like Castiel was his, without Castiel ever finding out the way he wants him. The last thing he could handle right now is Castiel finding out and running. 

“You love me.” Castiel says it in one long breath. He’s been wondering for a while. Hoping and praying. He’s loved Dean since he laid eyes on him. His strength, his undying loyalty. If an angel’s breath could be taken away, it would have been in that moment. 

“Yes.” Dean whispers. He grips Castiel tighter, hoping to buy a few seconds before Castiel bolts. Castiel doesn’t move though. If anything, he leans farther into Deans chest.  
“I love you too.” Dean lets out a little gasp at the words. He shifts so he can see Castiel’s face better. For a second he just stares at the perfection in front of him. Then he leans in, letting his lips just hover above Castiel's. Dean hesitates, earning a small groan from Castiel. “Just kiss me already Winchester.”

Their lips collide in an instant. Dean’s rough against Castiel, forgetting that he’s sick. All he can think is more, more, more. Take everything, before he changes his mind. When they final come up for air Dean can’t stop smiling. Castiel’s head is pounding, and he feels like all his energy just got ripped out of him. He’s smiling too. A spike of pain runs through him, making him wince. Dean comes to his senses, feeling bad. 

“We should get you some medicine.” He whispers. Castiel shakes his head no, not caring that it hurts his headache. He slouches, burying his face in Dean’s chest. Dean’s arms wrap around him tightly, making him feel small and safe. 

“You’re all I need.” Castiel whispers, loving the way his body seems to melt into Dean’s. He feels Dean place a soft kiss on the top of his head, his eyes sliding shut. He tries to fight the sleep, wanting to cherish every moment of this.

“Go to sleep Cas.” Dean whispers.

“I don’t want to waste this.”

“You’ll have years of this.” Dean whispers, kissing his hair again. He gets a little sigh from Castiel in return, feeling the man’s body relax. After a few minutes his breathing is heavy and even. It’s then that Dean lets his eyes close, resting his cheek against Castiel’s unruly black hair. He sighs. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
